Soul
by daily-chan
Summary: It was his brother and only his brother who would and could ever qualify to be named by that title, that honor. Tag to 6x11; Appointment in Samarra, small One Shot.


Soul

A/N: This one shot came to me late at night, after wondering why Sam choose Bobby in 6x11; Appointment in Samarra. And I just couldn't understand…I love Bobby, I do, but it didn't make sense to me and this little thing came out.

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As Sam readied his various traps, knowing it would be difficult to catch the other hunter by surprise, he didn't even hesitate.

He knew this was his only chance to escape having his soul return to him if Dean succeeded in whatever he had set out to do to be able to retrieve it.

He might be unable to feel anything now, but he still held the memories of the time he did have a soul.

He remembered the pain, the fear and the guilt, the overwhelmingly guilt from all his mistakes.

He could live with the guilt though, had done so his entire life.

Feeling guilty for wanting a normal life, for wanting to get away.

Guiltiness for being such a bother to his older brother, always dragging him down.

And guilt for never being the perfect little soldier John had wanted him to be.

Even in his thoughts he could not bring himself to call John Winchester his father, the man might have been his father, but he had never qualified for the role of dad.

Father Jim and Bobby had been more like fathers to him than John had ever been.

He sharpened his knife, frowning when he cut himself and watched blood well up.

Pain, another thing he was well acquainted with.

After all, hunters were no strangers to injuries and he and Dean had had more than their fair share of them over the years.

Both cuts and life threatening ones usually paired with an indecent amount of pain.

Having been thrown into walls, multiple attempted strangulations on his name, stabbed in the back, cut, burned, pieces of flesh stripped of him in torture…yes, he knew all too well about pain.

And it was not the pain he feared upon the return of his soul, far too used to it to care about it.

And wasn't that ironic? Fear should be something he shouldn't be able to feel without a soul, and yet it coursed through his veins with every beat of his heart, with every breath he took.

Looking up as he heard the familiar sound of the Impala in the distance he quickly turned to see the unconscious form of Bobby on the ground behind him.

The man would be mad later, likely livid even and Sam could hardly blame him as he switched his knife for the gun tucked in his waistband, switching the safety off.

But Bobby was a concern for later, first he had to deal with defiling his body so he'd be able to keep that thing out of him.

Because, though he honestly didn't care about guilt or pain, or even his own well being, he did care about something else.

The one _thing_ he…his_ soul_, had ever cared about was his brother Dean.

He cared to not disappoint him again, ever again.

And Sam would not let Dean return that_ thing_ to him, would not let him feel like a failure again, a disappointment.

Because that was what Sam's soul had ever seemed to do, disappoint his older brother with his endless mistakes, and he had vowed to never do so again.

He had to bite back a snort at Balthazar's idiotic believe.

The angel clearly believed that Sam saw Bobby as a father figure.

But how could Sam, when it was Dean who had raised him.

When it was Dean who had changed his diapers, who had sung to him at night and tucked him in at night.

When it had been Dean who had taught him everything he knew, how to read and write, how to shoot and how to laugh despite their miserable life.

It was his brother and only his brother who would and could ever qualify to be named by that title, that honor.

Dean had been the only parental figure he had ever known, for as long as he could remember.

And Sam would rather kill him than to let him put that thing, his _soul, _back inside of him, only so that he would be able to let his brother down once more.

After all, a dead Dean couldn't possibly be a disappointed older brother and that was all that would ever matter to Sam, soul or no soul.

Raising his gun at the sound of approaching footsteps Sam readied himself, never seeing the shadow come up behind him as he narrowed his eyes at the front door.

And focused as he was, he never saw the sharp pain in the back of his mind coming before everything went dark.


End file.
